Who We Are
by MooMoogle
Summary: [VotDT]It is a stuffy night aboard the ship, and Eustace is kept awake by pestering questions...Who were his cousins? Nightmares, confessions, and long kept secrets... [Eustace POV lots of Edmund and Lu too]


The world was silent, embracing slumber in the dark folds of night, despite the fact that it was hot, musty, and we were amidst the unknown. It had been for me ever since I and my cousins landed aboard this ship. I despised it, but instead of expressing it openly, as I usually did, I kept quiet. For the first time, I was thinking of others before myself.

I think everyone was relieved when I failed to threaten them that Harold—er, Father, would have them all arrested for kidnapping and forcing me upon their voyage, as I usually did each and every night. It finally had dawned on me that there was no way the British fleet could get to wherever we are…Er, Narnia.

Funny, isn't it? Funny how, ever since earlier today, when I met the Lion, my views have changed? Is there an enchantment over me? Perhaps. But what irks me is my lack of caring. I don't mind the change, and of course, I am very content in not being an oversized lizard with that horrid bracelet choking on my arm. It doesn't throb anymore. I can't say I miss the feeling.

Edmund seemed to understand exactly what I meant when I talked to him today. He got a funny sort of look on his face when he voiced that the Lion's name was…Aslan. That was his name. It kind of gave me an odd feeling when he said the word, as though someone had drenched me in warm, bubbling water. I couldn't tell if I was frightened, or joyous.

I found out that my cousin was a traitor.

I also couldn't help but notice the off-tone to his voice when he said that. Whatever he had done had sure to have been dreadful, I assumed. I told him I wanted to hear nothing of it. I think he was glad when I said that that.

But in the dark of the night, I found myself on my side, deprived of slumber, looking thoughtfully at Edmund. He was nodding into sleep, but there was something uneasy about him. Discomfort was spread across his face. I couldn't help but be skeptical. He was sleeping on a dirty plank wood floor, for goodness sakes.

I was now thinking about him, my curiosity now getting the best of me in the safety of the night. I was thinking about my cousin, questions popping into my head I longed to know the answers to. What, in the Good Lord's name, had he done? Whom had he betrayed?

Who exactly _was_ the stubborn, snarky Edmund? Who _had_ he been?

I remember when I used to see my cousin more often, before we grew up, and he had been such a child, insistent and thriving on attention. Then, in later years, I had heard Alberta muttering choice words about the Pevensies. I remembered that she had explained each of their faults to me. I heard that Edmund had changed, for the worse specifically. Alberta raved on about him—I suppose just because we were the closest-in-age boys to her brother's family. She exclaimed about how Helen had worried over him—he began to take up the title of a bully, his nature angry and outcast.

And then, two years ago, he had changed again. I had expected nothing when I heard that my two youngest cousins were coming to stay with me. I had had such a shock. It had almost been overwhelming to me when he and Lucy first stepped foot in my house. There was something odd about them, and they stumbled over their words, as though not quite sure what to say.

Alberta had said that it was unnatural. We all sensed it. Some sort of invisible glow vibrated around their presence. They had seemed too old for their age.

But here in Narnia now, it didn't seem so outlandish. In fact, they seemed to act as though a weight had been lifted, and many words spilled from their mouths. I felt stupid around them, not even considering the two year difference between Lucy and myself—it was three when with Edmund.

I propped myself up on one elbow. I could see Caspian also sound asleep, but his features failed to show the same discomfort I found in my cousin's face. I blinked, falling back against the floor, gazing thoughtfully at Edmund. He shifted, mumbling incoherently under his breath, and for the faintest moment, I was afraid he would awaken and catch my spying.

But he didn't. His sleep was restless and shallow, but it was sleep, and he was trying desperately to find refuge within it.

I waited for my own sleep to take me to that haven, but it cruelly refused. I let loose a low moan of exasperation, remembering to keep my volume low, before rolling back over, hugging my knees to my chest and forcing my eyes shut.

A terrible gasp split the silence suddenly, and I winced at the sudden noise and the trains of description it brought with it. It was strangled, as though it had been forced from someone's lungs with such awful pain. My eyes flew open (much to my disgust), and I flipped over, turning to see who or what had made the noise.

It had been Edmund. His head turned slightly, as though trying to look away from some invisible attacker. Another gasp escaped him, more ragged than before, his face contorting as though with pain. I felt uneasy. If I was supposed to comfort my cousin, I had no idea as to how. I was used to scorning him and Lucy, and the sudden change was not comprehending with my sensible side.

I touched a hand to his shoulder. Gentle as I tried to be, it obviously was not gentle enough. His eyes flew open, wide with terror I had not ever seen him hold. Then again, I was not used to the nightmares, either; he had not had one until now, as far as I knew.

The frightened look vanished from his face after a mere moment, and he gasped again, though this time the noise was not as harsh, released from what ever nightmare he had been living. Though, when the scared expression left him, it was replaced with such _sorrow_, running so deep and clear, despite his attempts to veil it, as I assumed he was trying to do. When I saw his eyes shine with…tears, hard as it was to believe, he finally turned away, getting to his feet and leaving.

My cousin was _crying_.

This fact had me utterly confused and dumbfounded, but I was not about to let the fact of the matter drop. It wasn't like I was tired anyway.

"Edmund!" Staggering to my feet, I ran after him in pursuit. I skid down the hall, searching for my cousin, wherever he had gone, something telling me not to give up.

Whether by luck or some sort of magic driving me on, I found him above deck, leaning heavily against the starboard railing. My reckless pace slowed at the mere sight of his shadow, the only light given from the moon's faint beams scattered across the wooden floor. I wasn't quite sure how to handle what was set here before me, but I knew I should, so I went forward, best interests at mind.

That was new to me.

His downward gaze did not waver when I approached him, fully set on focusing on the rippling water beneath the ship. The small light we were given reflected from his cheeks watered with silent tears. He was tense, quivering slightly; so very unlike him.

Had he been like this every night? I didn't know. I didn't think so.

I said nothing, partially because I didn't think there was anything to be said yet, and because I didn't know what to say at all. He remained silent and still, so still, that I wondered if he knew I was there. I waited though, letting the silence between us stretch out longer and longer. It couldn't really be considered awkward. Not to me, anyways.

He sniffed, wiping away stray tears with the back of his hand before he finally glanced at me. For the slightest moment, he almost resembled a child, the way he looked so helpless, so grieving. For what, I did not know. But I only looked back at him, trying to let him know that it was alright. Just without words.

It was pathetic.

He studied me a minute, as though too embarrassed to speak, before returning his gaze to the water. I waited.

"It's hard to forget." He ended the drawn silence, whatever tensions there had been disappearing…for now.

I was genuinely confused. Forget…? But I thought about it. My earlier questions seemed to set off a bell. What had he done?

Quietly, I spoke up, seeing that he would not. "Edmund…What exactly happened during your first time in Narnia?"

He bit his lip, and for a moment, it seemed as though he refused to answer. I blinked, watching his face for any trace of change. He seemed grave. He didn't want to talk about it.

I was allowed to be stubborn, too. I waited, tapped my foot once, and waited some more.

Finally, he looked up at me, glaring. "Great Aslan, Eustace, you're as bad a Peter when he worries," he snapped, rubbing his temple.

"Thank you?"

"It's not something to be proud of. Trust me."

"Well, then, I'm going to be Peter for awhile."

He was silent again. But at least I had lightened his mood for a little while…That was progress, right?

"I miss him," he muttered, sounding miserable.

I knew Peter was off with Professor Kirke, readying himself for exams or something like that. Edmund had come to stay with his prat of a cousin. They had been separated, it seemed, due to the cruelty of the world.

"He went with you, didn't he?" He gave me a questionable look, not understanding. "What I mean is that he went with you and Lucy, your first time in?"

He grimaced, looking away again. "No." He sounded miserable again. I was off guard. I had used my own knowledge in a question format to get him to talk, and it was wrong. What? But Edmund talked again; "Not the first time. I was alone the first time…Well, not really. I had followed Lucy inside the wardrobe."

Not giving me time to question what a wardrobe had to do with anything, he went on, looking glum the whole time, but relieved as well. I was wondering if this was a secret he had never told. "I was alone, though…Well, for awhile. Then I met…" He stopped as abruptly as he had started, looking pained. "Eustace, why do you care?"

"Because something's wrong," I said matter-of-factly. "And as your cousin, it is my intention to find out what's wrong."

"You never cared before." He was snapping now, a scowl on his face.

"I hadn't met Aslan before today."

His expression fell. His anger left. He relented. "Forgive me."

"Apology accepted. I would still like to know where King Edmund came from."

"It is far from a justly beginning. My title betrays as well as I did."

That left open two possible questions. I decided to go with the gentler one. "Your title?"

"Aslan crowned me. Did you know that?" He looked up at me. I shook my head, overwhelmed at the idea. "He gave each of us a title. High King Peter, the Magnificent. Queen Susan, the Gentle. Queen Lucy, the Valiant. And King Edmund…the Just."

"It fits, you know."

"Indeed," he agreed. "I understood judgments better than most, having been faced with it to extremity in my early years in Narnia."

His face darkened at my hungry expression. I knew it was wrong to press such an emotional matter, but I couldn't help myself. He was dancing around the fact, and it was driving me insane. But I must have been persistent enough, because he finally spoke up again, his voice short.

"I betrayed my siblings to the White Witch, the self-called Queen of Narnia. She tempted me with the vision of being a Prince and ruling over my very siblings, and I fell to her enchantment." He shuddered. "Magic…is very hard to resist."

I fell silent, almost guilty about forcing that from him. But I didn't have too long to reflect that, for he spoke up again. "She planned to have me killed all along, too." I blinked, looking up at him with widened eyes.

"I should have died, too. I never found out why I wasn't killed on the Stone Table, as it should have been. The Deep Magic rested upon the rule—should one commit treachery, his blood shall become the property of Jadis herself, and he shall be killed upon the Stone Table."

I stared at him.

Who…_was_ this, again?

He looked down. "But I never found out why I didn't die that day she came for me. Aslan talked with her. He disappeared that night. But I never found out where he had gone, or what he had said to make her change her mind, and bend the Emperor's Magic."

"Perhaps it was for the best."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps."

"Who else have you told this?" For one moment, I felt as though I was the only one who knew this secret.

"Oh…Peter, Su, and Lucy have heard it, of course, and a few Narnians, and…and…" He looked sad for a moment. "Oh, bother, never mind."

I contorted in thought. "So, how long were you in Narnia?"

"…Fifteen years. Why?"

"Then you were…twenty five when you left." He nodded. I blinked, stunned. "Then you're really twenty seven now!" He shrugged. No wonder he seemed too old for his age.

"You were old enough to live on your own…And you were old enough to…" I paused; "…marry…"

Before I could go on, his face flushed and he turned and left. I blinked, trailing off, watching him go with sad eyes.

He had been a King, yes... And he had returned home, and in some twisted way, been pulled from it... But at what price?

---

The next morning, before Edmund awoke, I got up, intending on confronting Lucy. I needed to let her know I was in on the secret…And maybe she could answer one little question on my mind Edmund was unable to answer.

She smiled warmly at me when I walked over to her, and I returned it tiredly. "Good Morning, Eustace!" she beamed.

"'Morning," I yawned, sitting down against the wall of the cabin. She walked over beside me and did the same.

"I hope you slept okay?"

I blinked, freezing for a minute. "I did."

"Good."

"Edmund didn't." Her face contorted.

"Lucy, he talked with me last night. He told me…what happened. Your first—er, second--trip into Narnia, I mean." She sighed heavily, a look of pain crossing her as she strummed her fingers. Obviously, Edmund wasn't the only one who hated the subject.

"Okay, then," she said shortly, and made to stand.

"Wait," I snapped, annoyed. "I'm not finished yet."

She paused, faced with the decision to ignore or obey me. She relented, sinking back down. "What, Eustace?"

I paused a minute. For some reason, I hated my name in that moment. So many times it had been said in that same, tired sort of way. My name was tired, worn and ugly, I thought. When it was not scorned upon, it was doted on by Mother. She always said I was better than Lucy or Edmund or any of my cousins. That was a lie.

Had all her words over me been lies?

I shook my head from my sudden thoughts, though I knew I wouldn't forget them. "Lucy, why didn't he die?"

Her expression pained again, and she hugged her knees to her chest. "Which time?" she asked wearily.

"Which time?" I echoed, confused. "What do you mean, 'which time'?"

"What I mean," she snapped. Had he risked his life being lost more than once?

"Wh-what I mean is…he nearly died…_twice_?"

"Oh, he was an idiot during all that time in Narnia. We all were at some point in our lives. There were times when he got between a rock and a hard place."

"Oh." I guess I should've known that. "Well, what I meant was, why didn't he die when…the Witch came?"

She faltered for a moment, her face sorrowed…until suspicion took its place. Her face darkened and she turned, looking me full in the face. "Look at me and tell me that you did not press this issue on Edmund, Eustace Clarence Scrubb." I winced when she said my full name. Her voice was quiet and shaken, and I knew, no matter how hard I tried, I could not lie to her. Weakly, I raised my shoulders up and down.

"Eustace…oh! you annoying, pestering little prat!" A scowl angled her features as she stood, turning to march away. I rose, too, quickly snagging her arm and whirling her back around. She glared at me, jerking her arm from my feeble grasp and made to be on her way. But she paused, turning back around to poke me in the chest, her eyes narrow. "Eustace, if you did something so shameful in your life—I know you have—but something publicized and added to the history of a whole _nation_, the nation you ruled, would you want to be pressed about it?"

I opened my mouth, but she shook her head, her eyes blazing. "If you pretended you hated someone, and then was captured and had your life threatened, without knowing if you'd ever see them again, would you want to talk about it?" She paused in her rage, a strange sort of emptiness filling her eyes. Gently, I took her hands in mine, lying them by her side.

"I would never," I assured her, my voice wavering and trembling, I was sure. She blinked, sighed, and shuddered, looking away. "But Lucy…I feel as though I am meeting him…I am meeting you…for the first time, ever. Your not twelve, like you claim, and Edmund's not thirteen. You know so many things that adults don't…You, Peter, Edmund, Susan--"

She growled softly. "Susan does not believe in Narnia anymore."

I sighed, blinked, and coughed, doubling back. "What?! How…can she forget! She was there fifteen years! Fifteen years of being a queen!"

Lucy shook her head. "That is one thing, Eustace, I don't want to talk about right now," she said tightly. "If you want to know anything, you will not get it by pressing_ me_."

"But, still…I feel like you're a stranger now! Edmund, too! Who _are_ you? What _happened_ to you? I know very little, but I want to hear all about Narnia." I furrowed my brow. "Starting with my relatives."

A soft twinkle entered her eyes, and she let a small smile drift across her face. "Curiosity, Eustace, killed the cat."

"Satisfaction brought him back," I shot back.

A deep sigh escaped her, and she gazed at me steadfast. "If I tell you, you mustn't ever let Edmund know. Promise me that."

"I promise."

"Aslan talked with the Witch. Did he tell you that?"

I nodded.

"He offered his life in place of Edmund's. He died on the Stone Table in my dear brother's place."

So…so… I closed my eyes. Stunned was an understatement. Utterly dumbfounded was a bit better, I guess. I shall never be able to accurately describe how I felt when I heard those two small sentences.

At that moment, Edmund himself stumbled into view, his hair a tangle and his features utterly exhausted and quiet and slightly hurt, but as I looked upon my cousin, I found myself seeing him as more than simply that. I saw an air of nobility hovering around him, despite his temperamental snappishness about that, yes, he did want a glass of water very much so. Lucy left me then, walking up to her brother and giving him a warm hug and a laugh, ignoring his grumpy demeanor. His face seemed a little less upset then, and he calmed, returning the gesture with a fondness I could only envy, hints of a smile tugging at his lips.

There was an air of nobility about them both as they stood there on the deck, embraced, neither children nor adults. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I turned away. I left them, lost, confused, and wanting to be alone.

I do not know who my cousins truly were. Perhaps I never shall. But I do know that they are wonderful. Peter is not bossy. Edmund is not a traitor. Lucy is not to be underestimated. Aslan is not a myth. Narnia…is not a game.

In here, there is true love. In here, there is a true sense, even if it is a childish one. Maybe to be a child, is to be a true person. I wish I had learned that sooner. I wish Susan had understood that and never let it go. I wish Alber—Mum, would have given me a better name, and not told me the lies she did.

No matter what Susan or Alberta says, Narnia is most certainly not a game.


End file.
